Chapter Six: Burnt Echoes And Quiet Beds

The smoke had barely cleared when Daniel saw her—curled up near the remains of the sigil, the place where the thing had been sealed.

She was just a kid now. Quiet. No twisted eyes, no demonic whispers. Just ten years old, breathing slow.

But her arms…

From her fingertips to her elbows, both arms were blackened—like charred wood carved into the shape of limbs. Cracked, splintered, but not broken. Still solid. Still warm. Still… human, somehow.

He crouched down beside her, eyes tracing the burns. She didn't flinch. Just lay there. Sleeping. Maybe dreaming.

"You weren't the monster," he muttered, brushing hair from her face. "You were just the door."

Lifting her in ghost form wasn't easy—being incorporeal had its quirks—but he made it work. The hospital loomed not far away. Night shift. Sparse. He phased through the emergency room wall and left her on a stretcher just behind the nurses' station, pressing the emergency call button before vanishing again into the wall.

They'd find her. They'd save her.

He couldn't do that part.

---

Hours later, Daniel stood outside the shell of his old apartment.

Same bricks. Same rusty mailbox. His name still on the door, faded. Dust clung to every memory here—ghosts of his life before the cult, before the deal, before gods and devils dragged him into the shadows.

No one had touched this place. Probably thought he was dead and buried.

They weren't wrong.

He stepped inside and dropped the bronze dagger on the kitchen table, exhaling like he hadn't in days. The room was quiet. Empty. Haunted.

Not by monsters.

By absence.

Photos on the wall, drawers full of old case files, coffee mugs with names long since forgotten.

He ran his hand over a cracked frame—him and his squad. The badge. The life that was.

Now he was something else. Something between. A ghost with a badge, an executioner walking the tightrope between heaven and hell.

Daniel lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

Sleep wouldn't come, but rest would.

---

By morning, he stood outside the hospital, back in human form.

No one noticed. Just another tired face among many.

He found her room easily. Clean white walls, steady beeping machines. The girl lay in bed, her arms wrapped in strange bandages—woven with prayers and scientific jargon he couldn't make sense of.

She was awake now.

Eyes dull but aware.

She turned when he walked in.

"You came back," she whispered.

He nodded. Said nothing. Just watched her breathe. Alive. Changed. Like him.

He pulled a chair close, sitting down with a heavy sigh.

"You got a name, kid?"

She hesitated.

"…Lina."

He nodded. "I'm Daniel. I'm… supposed to keep the monsters out."

Lina blinked. Her eyes glowed faintly for just a second. A shiver ran down his spine.

"Then you should stay close," she said softly.

"Because I think there's more coming."

"Not for a while, kid."

The words barely left Daniel's mouth when the world—froze.

The steady beeping of machines halted mid-note. The blinds stopped swaying. A nurse outside stood mid-step, coffee spilling midair but never hitting the floor.

Time stopped.

He sighed, not surprised. "About fucking time."

Two figures emerged from the stillness—one bathed in golden light, hooded in radiance so blinding it blurred their face. The other lounged in the shadows of the room like he owned it, one leg draped over the armrest of a chair that hadn't even been there before. Smoke coiled around his horns, and his grin had too many teeth.

God.

And the Devil.

Daniel didn't stand. Just narrowed his eyes.

"That thing… the one in the girl… it said I'm number four. You didn't tell me there were others before me."

God's light pulsed gently. The Devil chuckled, flicking ash into the frozen air.

"Would you have said yes if you knew how the others ended?" the Devil asked.

Daniel's jaw tensed. "Maybe."

God spoke, voice like wind through glass: "They broke. Some vanished. Some turned. Balance demands correction. You were not told because knowledge brings hesitation."

"So I'm just another doomed try?"

"You're the last try," the Devil said flatly. "So don't fuck it up."

Daniel looked back at the girl in the bed. Lina. So small. So still.

"And her? What happens to her?"

The divine light dimmed slightly.

"She was a vessel, not a monster. But such vessels leave residue. Taint. Unpredictability."

The Devil leaned forward, tapping Daniel's chest with a claw. "But you're full of that already, so what's one more, right?"

God continued: "The family made a plea. To fix their daughter. To protect her. We will honor it."

"You're saying she's my problem now?"

"She is your responsibility," the Devil corrected. "You're the bridge between worlds, remember? And this one? She's walking on both sides now."

Daniel stood and ran a hand through his hair. "You people really know how to dump shit in my lap."

The Devil smirked. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

Time resumed with a hum and a breath.

The machines beeped again. The nurse walked past. Coffee hit the floor with a splatter.

Daniel sat back down.

Lina blinked slowly. "You okay?"

"…Yeah. Just talking to the boss."